“Are you telling me I can’t use my phone?” she said.
“Honey,” her dad said, turning around, making his face soft and sympathetic, “it’ll be great. You’ll forget you even have it. I know I told you all this about how remote it would be.”
Danielle’s tone was icy. “You didn’t say I couldn’t use my phone.”
“I think I did.”
Gracie nodded. “I think he did.”
Danielle turned on her. “I don’t know why you’d even care, Gracie. Nobody even knows your number.”
Gracie looked away, instant tears stinging in her eyes. She should be used to how quickly and ruthlessly Danielle could humiliate her and learn not to tear up. She hated when she let her sister get to her.
“This isn’t Yellowstone,” Danielle said to her dad, “It’s friggin’ hell.”
“Honey…,” her Dad said, turning in his seat so he could plead with her.
“My friends go to Europe, or Disneyland, or Hawaii, or Mexico for summer vacation,” Danielle said. “But no, my dad takes me to friggin’ hell.”
“Darling…,” her dad said.
“I should have stayed home,” Danielle said, twisting the knife. “I should have stayed with Mom. At least there was civilization and broadband. And my friends. And friggin’ cell service.”
Her dad turned back around in silence and engaged the transmission and the car eased forward into the lane.
Gracie said, “We can call it Hell-o-stone!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Danielle spat.
“Don’t say that,” Gracie said. “It’s against the law to say fuck in a national park.”
Danielle looked at her suspiciously. “It is?”
Her dad sighed, “Girls, please…”
It had been their dad’s idea, this trip to Yellowstone National Park. He’d come up with it the previous summer-they stayed with him summers-and he’d announced it suddenly when the sisters returned from an afternoon at the swimming pool at his condo village on the outskirts of St. Paul. Danielle, who’d just broken up with her then-local boyfriend at the pool an hour before and never wanted to see him-or Minnesota-again, said she was all over it.
Anything to get away from Alex and his stupid friends, she’d said, wiping her hands on her pool towel as if rubbing off his disgusting germs.
Gracie, who could never get used to the heat or humidity of the long green summer months compared to where they lived the rest of the year in dry, high-altitude Denver, was thrilled with the idea. Gracie loved animals, hiking, nature, and the idea of a great adventure. But most of all, she wanted to make her dad happy.
It had been obvious for the ten years since the divorce that her dad wasn’t really comfortable with them, maybe because they were girls. He’d never outright said he wanted boys instead, but it was clear that at least he’d know what to do with them: take them to baseball games or something. He really wasn’t an outdoorsman of any kind even though he’d grown up in Colorado, but Gracie guessed he’d take quicker to learning to hike, fish, or hunt for the sake of his sons than he did ferrying his daughters to movies, the Mall of America, restaurants, or waiting for them to return from the pool. He was dutiful, but there was always something sad about him, she thought. Like he liked the idea of having his daughters for the summer more than he actually liked having them there taking over the bathroom or hanging their wet bathing suits from the shower rod to dry.
But this trip really did seem to excite him in a way she’d never seen before. Once he cleared it with their mother-who thought he, and they, were crazy as ticks but acquiesced in the end-he could talk of nothing else for the rest of the year. His eyes sparkled, and his movements seemed more rapid. He fired off e-mails and links about Yellowstone and horses and camping and wildlife. For Christmas he sent them both sleeping bags, flashlights, headlamps, travel fishing rods and reels, new digital cameras, rain ponchos, and National Geographic maps of the park.
Gracie read everything he sent, and obsessed over the “What to Bring” list forwarded from the outfitter. Danielle rolled her eyes and said, “What-does he think we’re his boys, now?”
Gracie suspected there was an ulterior motive to his enthusiasm, but she didn’t know yet what it was. She suspected through comments her mother had made over the years that her dad wasn’t very happy growing up, that his intensity (he was a software engineer who traveled a lot all over the country and the world) prevented him from ever being loose or carefree. He thought in terms of circuit boards and digital switches, and when the level of drama was high-which it often was with Danielle and sometimes Gracie-that he was “better at hardware than software,” as if that explained everything. She thought maybe he was hoping he could go on this wilderness cowboy pack trip and… be a boy again. She wasn’t sure that was something she really wanted to see.
The trip the day before had begun on a jarring note, Gracie thought. It was taking her a while to process what had happened and why it bothered her, other than her natural and annoying propensity to simply worry too much about everything.
They’d kissed their mother good-bye at Denver International Airport in the morning and boarded the United/Frontier flight to Bozeman. Although they’d planned to carry on their luggage-which was ridiculously slight given the weight restrictions Jed McCarthy imposed-but because of all the metal and equipment in their duffel bags, they’d had to check the bags through. Gracie thought her mom looked forlorn and vulnerable, as if she wondered if she’d ever see her daughters again. That wasn’t a good way to start the trip.
Their arrival was slightly delayed-the airplane had to circle Bozeman while early summer thundershowers lashed the airport. Gracie had the window seat and looked out at the mountains in all directions and the black thunderheads on the northern horizon.
“Which way is Yellowstone?” she’d asked her sister.
“Like I would know?” Danielle said in a way that was both incredulous and offended.
“That’s right,” Gracie had said, “how dare I assume you know anything.”
Which was met with a hard twist on her ear.
She’d looked out expectantly for their dad in the luggage area because he was scheduled to arrive an hour before from Minneapolis, but he wasn’t there.
“His plane must be late,” Danielle told her. “I’ll check in a minute.”
When their bags arrived and the rest of the passengers cleared out, Gracie waited near the outside doors. She knew there was a problem by Danielle’s worried face as she came back from the Northwest counter.
“The plane arrived on time but he wasn’t on it, they said.”
Gracie fought panic. She looked up at the mounted animal heads and stuffed trout on the walls and out at the cold blue mountains to the south. She thought of how miserable it would be to be stuck in Bozeman, Montana, with her sister until they could figure out a way to get back home. And she was worried about what might have happened to their dad. Was he sick? Did he get in a car crash on the way to the airport? She flipped open her phone and powered it up, hoping there would be a message.
“I’m calling Mom,” Danielle said, having already opened her cell phone.
That’s when their dad bounded into the airport. Not from the area where the planes landed, but from outside on the street.
“Girls!” he shouted. His grin and his open arms made Gracie’s black dread melt away as if he had touched a flame to a spider’s web. He seemed almost too exuberant, she thought. As if he was happy but with a bit of desperation thrown in.